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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25610209">Wonderous time</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baho/pseuds/Baho'>Baho</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Daredevil (Comics), Daredevil (TV), Elektra (Comics)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Banter, Based on a Taylor Swift Song, Canon Disabled Character, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Complicated Relationships, Daddy Issues, Developing Relationship, Elektra Natchios is bad at feelings, Elektra Natchios needs a hug, Established Relationship, F/M, Feelings, Ficlet Collection, Guest Stars, Human Disaster Matt Murdock, Humor, I like that this is a tag, I will add tags as I go, Introspection, Love, Matt Murdock Needs a Hug, Matt Murdock go to therapy challenge, Matt Murdock is Bad at Feelings, Mental Health Issues, Non-Linear Narrative, Past Relationship(s), Relationship Study, Song fic, a bit of everything, canon child abuse, cause Taylor Swift made me do it, it’s her fault, slides of life, tbh I don’t know what this is, the author is bad at feelings, why isn’t it a tag?</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 07:35:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,156</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25610209</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baho/pseuds/Baho</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of ficlets based on Taylor Swift’s Folklore exploring Matt’s and Elektra’s relationship.<br/>Because why not?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Matt Murdock/Elektra Natchios</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. We were something, don’t you think so?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey guys.<br/>Just take it, ok?<br/>Tw: Brief mention of alcohol and drugs, nothing graphic.<br/>Thanks to my beta as always.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>1) But we were something, don’t you think so?</p><p>It has only been a couple years since the last time she had seen him, but he had changed. Nothing obvious, nothing that someone who didn’t know him like she did would have noticed. It was subtle. A lack of innocence in his features, an awareness that only people familiar with danger had. Elektra was certain that if she looked, she’d discover a plethora of scars on his skin. If she’d let her fingers follow the twisted lines and broken curves of this map draw in blood, maybe she could find back the young man of her memories. This one wasn’t much older, but he was colder. Or at last, he pretented to.</p><p>"What are you doing here, Elektra?"</p><p>No warmth in his almost dismissing tone. Only that indefectible stubbornness that sharpened his face. Elektra let herself feel a glimmer of nostalgia mixed with satisfaction. It was comforting to know that this fire still burned in him. As long as it would burn high and hot, Matthew would fight. As long as it burned, Matthew would be safe.</p><p>Plus, if Matthew was still as stubborn as he used to be in college, he couldn’t have changed that much. He couldn’t actually consider her like an unwelcomed ghost from his past. Herself was having a hard time trying to keep the maelstrom of feelings that were boiling in her guts under control. She had thought she was ready to see him again without losing her footing. She had been wrong. The emotions were so close, ready to jump out from the boxes full of memories of crowded campus, rushes of adrenaline stronger than any drugs or alcohol, warm skin and shared nightmare, safely disposed in her core. But Matthew was standing with his arms crossed in a strained attitude and was waiting for her to give him an answer. "Did you miss me like I missed you?", was asking her mind. "Or did you forget how strong our bond used to be? How special we were?"</p><p>"We Matthew. You don’t even ask me how I’m going?"</p><p>It was so easy to be her playful, carefree, mischievous self. She hadn’t even mean to, it was simply who she was; who they were.</p><p>"Right. Where are my manners? Long time no see, Elektra."</p><p>A light laugh escaped her lips, startling the both of them. Matthew’s cold mask slightly slipped and a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.</p><p>"Dear, that was terrible."</p><p>"Maybe, but you didn’t see it coming."</p><p>Yes, it was so easy to fall back on their old habits. It was easy to forget that they were dancing around the broken pieces of their hearts. Because they were more than pain or regrets. And it was Matthew. And if there was one person Elektra would never regret to have suffer for, it would be Matthew. And now that she could see how he naturally was leaning towards her, how quickly he had warmed up and let his guard down in her presence even with the shadow of their past threatening to swallow them both, Elektra knew deep down that for Matthew too, she was the one.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. You drew stars around my scars but now I'm bleeding</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Do I know what I’m doing?<br/>Absolutely not my friends.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Footsteps on the sidewalks, beating like a disordered army of drums that never gets tired. Some were small and swift, their owners being children who were light and free enough to jump through life instead of confronting the sidewalk. Some were loud and angry, a lot were exhausted. All these relentless drums were the solid structure that supported the loud, strong smelling, always moving, never sleeping, weights of New York. The billions of growling cars, the whining of the sirens, the innombrables voices talking, screaming, singing in a plethora of language, the screeching of the subway, the smoke, the smells of food from all around the world wrapping the streets in a mist of fragrances that blindly collided with each other in a symphony of discordant notes. New York was constantly vibrant with life. The city was deafening and it never went silent. Its odor was constantly invading his nostrils.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was endless.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was exhausting.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was overwhelming.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If Stick hadn’t taught him how to canalise his senses as a child, Matt would probably have lost his mind somewhere in a crowded street overflowed by the distinctive smell of each individual’s sweat and perfume, their hearts beating and their phones ringing, beeping and vibrating.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even now, after years of practice, controlling his senses and ignoring the superfluous stimuli that his too sharpe senses perceived could be demanding and left him drained. It was a fight against his body that Matt couldn’t always win.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Somehow, having Elektra by his side made it easier to forget the buzzing of the world around him. Matt had memorised the fragrance of her shampoo. If he focused on it, he could lose himself in the memories of his fingers running through silky hair and strands light as whispers titling his skin. With Elektra close, it was easy to let the cacophony of the outside world fade away. He only had to let himself be lulled by her heartbeat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was such a wonderful feeling to receive this comfort he had never thought he could ask for. After years of fighting, he finally had the ally he had ignored he needed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Elektra was a fire, and Matt hadn’t known until then that he was freezing to the bone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was unexpected.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was welcomed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was addictive.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then, came that terrible night and Matt lost at once Elektra and the bulwark that shielded him against the chaos that surrounded him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Disoriented, left alone in the cold he had foolishly almost forgotten, Matt had to fight the too many sensations that claimed his attention. He fought to stay a float when the heartbreak was threatening to drown him. He built new walls, higher than anyone could ever offer him as a shelter. He clenched his jaw and his fists and went through the intricate pates he found himself following.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Matt moved on. But sometimes, a familiar scent of jasmine would floats in the air and Matt would taste the sour savour of « What if? » on his tongue.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading.<br/>The next part is already written so it’ll be posted soon.<br/>Take care.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Here comes the maddest woman this city has ever seen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I don’t know where I’m going, but I’m going anyway.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Elektra Natchios was a hurricane, an unstoppable force of nature that swayed him off his feet and left him breathless. She took his hand in hers and ran.<br/>
Together, they flew above the rooftops, danced on the edges. Beneath their feet, New York was a vibrant tapestry of scents, noises and life. But surely, no one in the world was as alive as they were.<br/>
For the first time in his life, Matt Murdock felt light. Elektra had dusted years of his shoulders, took him by the hand and led him to the highest places. Where they were unattainable.<br/>
Around them, the wind was howling, blazing, sending blast after blast, slapping their faces, cold and unperturbed by these intruders who came uninvited on its territory. They accepted it with jubilation. They faced it, arms open and welcoming but hands still linked. Their laughter flew away with the wind and got lost, free and wild, in the night sky.<br/>
Elektra was the wind in his hair, the lightning bolt sliced his cloudy sky, the adrenaline in his blood.<br/>
She was electricity. She was a waterfall. She was everything Matt could never be.<br/>
She was a future he would have never dreamed of, an unexpected chance and that was what Matt held on to her with strength that would have broken anyone else. But Elektra wasn’t anyone else. She could look right at his soul, see all the shadows and the cutting edges, the cracks and the hidden terrors lurking around and not be afraid nor repulsed. Somehow, she wasn’t scared by the worst of him, these things that Matt himself preferred to ignore because he was ashamed. Because he was scared.<br/>
Elektra didn’t let go of his hand.<br/>
Now and there, she squeezed his fingers between hers and reduced the nonexistent distance between their palms. They held on, tight and firm, and ran.<br/>
Matt had no idea where they were going. Nowhere.<br/>
Everywhere.<br/>
Anywhere they could feel their hearts beating and the other’s breath on their skin. Anywhere he could feel that light.<br/>
Elektra couldn’t stay still. She had to run, to fight, to love, to wake up in New York and book a flight for Tokyo, just because she wanted to, to go to fancy receptions and to finish the night with her sai in her hands and red stained clothes.<br/>
Elektra was an explosive mix of volatile elements.<br/>
Matt should be scared of the unpredictable novelty Elektra had brought into his life.<br/>
But he loved her despite it.<br/>
Or maybe, was it one of the roots of his love for her.<br/>
He was ready to follow her even if he didn’t know where. He was ready to try and let his guard down and to take things as they were.<br/>
It was terrifying, like when your feet leave the edge and there’s nothing between the fall and you.<br/>
It was exhilarating, like the wind whacking your cheeks and roaring in your ears while the gravity inexorably draw you toward the ground.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading.<br/>Please, take care.<br/>See you soon.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. So who am I offending now?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Yes, it took me a ridiculously long time to update this.<br/>Yes, I’m ashamed.<br/>For my defence.... I have none.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Maybe Stick had been right all these years ago.<br/>
Maybe Matt was too soft, too emotional, too weak.<br/>
He did feet weak.<br/>
He felt broken and pressing both his palms on his chest did nothing to stop his heart from sending wave after wave of pain in his organism. He could feel it beating steady and strong under his ribs. His heart was whole and the only thing running through his veins was blood. Still, Matt could swear that he could feel all the warmth pouring from his chest and leaking between his powerless fingers, leaving him numb and cold.<br/>
It was a different pain than the one that had broken him when his dad had died. That one had been suffocating, a fire in his chest that had made breathing a hardship and had filled his mind with smoke that had made him weep.<br/>
But this pain was as sharp as the knife Elektra had put in his hand and tasted like betrayal on his tongue.<br/>
Elektra was gone, leaving pain and anger in her place. Matt was exhausted. He was tired of people leaving him behind. He was tired of losing.<br/>
Matt could hear Stick’s smug voice. “Told you, Matty. You’re too soft. A real warrior would never let a girl make him weak.” But he also could remember his father’s tired smile, his confidence in him. Stick could go fuck himself. And Elektra... well, she wasn’t his problem anymore. So Matt swallowed the bitter taste of betrayal and somehow patched his broken heart with the steady new normal that was life without Elektra. He went to his classes and worked as hard as he could, spending nights on his notes and eating just often enough for Foggy to not turn in full mother hen mode on him. But Matt wasn’t a good liar and no one believed him whenever he said that sure, he was perfectly fine. Even Marci started to be concerned about him. Well, kinda.<br/>
“What the hell, Murdock?”<br/>
He didn’t flinch. He had recognised the scent of strawberry and cigarettes as soon as she had walked through the door.<br/>
“Hi, Marci. How are you?”<br/>
“Don’t play dumb with me, Murdock. Foggy is worried sick because of your sorry ass.”<br/>
“My ass is perfectly fine.”<br/>
“So if you could at last try to act like a functional human being, that’d be great.”<br/>
It shouldn’t have, but it stung.<br/>
“Careful, I could think you care.”<br/>
She huffed. “Meena Chapiro thinks you’re hot. You should invite her to dinner.”<br/>
He didn’t.<br/>
But time passed and Matt let Elektra slip in the back of his mind with the remains of a life that could have been. He never asked Meena out but he dated other people. There were Jane and Noah and Hamida and a handful of others but each time Matt started to feel comfortable around someone, he would hear her laugh in the crowd or smell her shampoo in some random passerby’s hair and it would feel so wrong to be there with a person who wasn’t her.<br/>
And it was so unfair.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading. Please, be careful. <br/>See you soon, kids.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. I didn’t have it in myself to go with grace</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Me : Imma write a song fic.<br/>The fic *doesn’t match the song*<br/>Me : Whatever.<br/>Tw alcohol on this one.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Miss, can I get you anything?"</p><p>Elektra turned her gaze to the hostess. The young woman was as polished and professional as any of her colleagues but her standard smile fell for a short second. Most people wouldn’t have seen it. "I must look terrible." thought Elektra. For once, she didn’t care. Her father would be disappointed in her. "You’re important, Elektra." he’d say, "People must understand it.". Whatever. Today, she felt miserable. She didn’t give a shit about what this hostess could think of her.</p><p>"A brandy, please."</p><p>"You’re such a princess." snorted Matthew’s playful voice in her head. "So fancy"</p><p>It stung. A blade made of ice that pierced her heart and sent a ripple of sharp splinter in her chest. Fuck, it hurt. Elektra knew how to deal with physical pain, but no one ever trained her for this. She was supposed to be stronger than this. She could picture Stick’s disapproving expression and his obvious disappointment in her. It made her feel small and furious. It hurt, but it was nothing in comparison with the look of utter horror and betrayal on Matthew’s face when she had put the knife in his hand. Something had broke at this exact instant, a hole between them that the biggest bridge couldn’t cross.</p><p>The hostess bowed her head, obliging smile still in place, before leaving Elektra alone. When she came back, glass full of alcohol in hand, there wasn’t any judgment on her face. Oh, Elektra was sure of being judged for drinking at 7 AM, but at least, the hostess knew how to hide her disdain. Money could buy an illusion of respect. For now, it would be good enough.</p><p>Elektra had never been someone who drowned their pain in alcohol. She was too collected, too dignified for such a display of weakness and lack of control of herself. Where was that confidence now? Where was that pride? That arrogance that convinced her that nothing could ever affect her? Lost somewhere on a campus? Elektra’s lips curved around a smirk when she thought about what Marci Stahl would say if she could see her right now. Foggy would either despise her or pity her depending on how much he’d know. But Marci would take a look at her, sigh and tell her to get her shit together.</p><p>Suddenly, Elektra realised that she didn’t only lose Matthew. She also had lost friends. Actual friends who would study with her and bring her coffee even if she didn’t ask for it and share jokes with her and call her out on her bullshit. People she had grown attached to without even realising it. People who will never know why she has left in the middle of the night without an explanation. She knew Matthew. He would never tell them the terrible, hideous truth.</p><p>She knew Matthew and still, she had managed to commit the only sin he couldn’t forgive her for.</p><p>Scorching shame blazing in her chest, Elektra took a first sip of her Brandy.</p><p>She had fallen so hard.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading.<br/>Please, take care of yourselves.<br/>See you soon.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Shining just for you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey folks.<br/>I’m so so late but college kicked my ass and then nanowrimo kicked my ass.<br/>Anyway enjoy</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"You look like hell."</p><p>A tired smile struggled to find its way on Matthew’s mouth.</p><p>"Just came back from there."</p><p>"I can relate to that."</p><p>"Knew that smell was familiar."</p><p>Elektra threw a fist at him without any strength in her punch. Matthew easily caught her hand in his. He has taken his mask and his gloves off and his bare skin was warm against hers. She let him open her fist and retrace the lines of her palm. Her hands were like his; calloused, rough, and used to cause pain. Their bloody knuckles and the discreet cobweb of scars on their skins told the same story. And no varnish, no gloves, no charming smiles, no words of honey could ever erase it. They couldn’t escape a truth carved in their flesh. Elektra was at peace with it. Matthew, not so much. And boy, did he try. He still was trying every day. And wasn’t that Matthew’s problem? Trying again and again. Fighting in the courtroom. Fighting in the street. Fighting to save everyone except himself. Fighting against the whole world and drowning in guilt whenever he felt like he wasn’t enough. Because he was human. Because life wasn’t fair and for some reason, he was convinced that it was his job to fix it. Matthew was so good and fierce but also, so stubborn and stupid. The battle against himself was the only battle he hadn’t won. So, he pulled on his most charming smile to reassure his clients during sunlight and at night, pulled on a mask and kept on fighting for them, showing the world what it needed from him at any time.</p><p>In the street beneath them, someone was talking on the phone. Elektra could only hear their voice distorted by the distance and the echoe rising in volume or going softer but Matthew could probably make out the words. For just a second, she tried to imagine a life in which she would be a woman who walked the streets after a long day at work. A woman who wouldn’t have blood under her nails. A woman who wouldn’t take a break between two fights on a rooftop with a man with whom she would have a ridiculously complicated relationship. Elektra didn’t reflect long upon this possibility. Whoever this supposed woman would have been, she wouldn’t have been her.</p><p>Laying by her side on the concrete, Matthew was still playing with her hand. The person on the phone has finished their conversation. Somewhere, a dog barked and a car alarm was shrieking. The world was spinning as it had to. Somewhere, a mother just woke up to feed her baby meanwhile a student was going home after a shift at their work with only their morning exam in mind. People were living. People were hurting. People would always need saving.</p><p>But right now, Matthew didn’t have to put on a mask for their benefit. Right now, he was with her on this rooftop and he was breathing.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank You for reading as always. <br/>Please, take care of yourselves.<br/>See you soon kids.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. And though I can’t recall your face, I still got love for you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks to my beta as always</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She was cold. She hadn’t known that she was cold until he wrapped his arms around her. He was warm. She could feel the warmth of his skin through the fabric of his suit and the warmth of his breath on her cheek. It was strange, familiar and unknown all at once.</p><p>"Kill him." screamed her instinct. "Kill him. Kill them all. Did you forget who you are?" Intriguingly, she thought that she did forget. And she didn’t know how to feel about that. The feeling of loss that was growing in her chest. She hadn’t felt anything in so long. She was losing her footing and the ground shaking beneath her feet had nothing to do with it. As the walls around them, her mental enclosures were falling and tumbling.</p><p>"Elektra."</p><p>They were so close she could hear the man in spite of the deafening roaring of tons of bricks tumbling around and crushing each other.</p><p>"Elektra, please."</p><p>This voice. His voice. Something woke up in the depths of her clouded mind. Buried memories of familiarity and fondness. Something so light and delicate she couldn’t get a grasp of it.</p><p>"Elektra."</p><p>This name.</p><p>They had called her Black Sky. They had called her killer. They had called her a weapon. But Elektra... She absorbed the syllables, let the sounds sing in her ears and take root in her mind.</p><p>"Elektra." She has heard this name before. It used to be her. Elektra was her name and they had dared to take it away from her.</p><p>"Elektra."</p><p>That voice. His voice. How many times had he called her? Too many for her to count. But never has he pronounced her name but such a pain in his voice. His voice she used to know once.</p><p>It was overwhelming.</p><p>There were ragged memories emerging from the shadows of her mind; fragments of a stolen life. Nameless faces. Lost feelings. Comfortable places she didn’t know anything about anymore. Bites and pieces of a thorn picture she wasn’t able to patch up. And amongst her internal chaos, that somber, bloodthirsty voice kept on commanding : "Kill. Kill. Kill."</p><p>And around her, the world was crashing down.</p><p>Elektra’s hands found his shoulders and grabbed onto them with all their strength. Right now, this beloved stranger, this breathing contradiction, was the only stable thing in the world. "Don’t let go. Please, don’t let go of me. If you do, I don’t know if I’ll ever recover from this." But Elektra couldn’t say it.</p><p>So, Elektra buried her face between his neck and his shoulder. She breathed against him, trying to put some order in the mess that had become her mind. He squeezed her; reassuring, warm, real. Elektra couldn’t remember who he was, not really. She ignored his name, couldn’t make out his face because of the darkness surrounding them, but she trusted him without a doubt. He was there, had always been.</p><p>Holding on each other, they stood together as the world collapsed around them.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading.<br/>See you soon.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. I remember thinkin' I had you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello folks,<br/>Here we go again for... whatever this is.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I don’t know what to do.”</p><p>A confession to himself. Father Lantom didn’t say anything, didn’t even hum. Matthew knew he was listening and sometimes, keeping quiet was the best way to help a person who struggled to find answers. Matthew was one of these people who needed more silence and quiet in their life.</p><p>Matt sighed and put his head between his hands. He was so young and seemed so tired. After a long moment, he raised his head. Father Lantom noticed the dark circles under the young man’s eyes. These were too familiar. When did Matt rest for the last time?</p><p>“I never thought she’d come back. I don’t know. I guess I hoped she wouldn't. At some point I used to believe I hated her.”</p><p>He fell silent, lost in his old memories.</p><p>“Did you?”</p><p>“What? Hate her? I don’t think so. I don’t think I could ever actually hate her. I just was very angry.”</p><p>“And hurt?”</p><p>Suggested the priest. Something shifted in Matthew’s expression. Father Lantom could see him putting some mental wall back up. That too, was way too familiar to him. Matthew was convinced he had to shelter himself at all time and Father Lantom had been there to witness the building of each new wall.</p><p>Matthew didn’t answer.</p><p>“What do you want, Matthew?”</p><p>“I don’t know. What shall I do, Father?”</p><p>He already knew the answer to that question.</p><p>“It isn’t my question to answer, Matthew.”</p><p>He smiled. It was sad, tired, almost cynical.</p><p>“You and her are the only ones to call me like that.”</p><p>“Are you still angry at her?”</p><p>Matthew thought about it. Once more, he brought his hands to his head but this time tugged frustratedly at his hair.</p><p>“I guess? I used to love her so much. And she loved me too. We were great. We could have been great. I was so sure at the time that we’d stay together. I was convinced that we had something special as childish as it might sound.”</p><p>“Love isn’t childish, Matthew.”</p><p>“I was so sure. But she chose her mission over me.”</p><p>Disgust hardened the line of his mouth.</p><p>“She chose the Hand over us.”</p><p>He let his hands fall from his hair. When he spoke, he sounded so defeated that for what was far from being the first time, Father Lantom felt his heart aching for Matthew Murdock.</p><p>“And she left. She didn’t say anything. She just left.”</p><p>“But she came back.”</p><p>Matthew’s words were barely louder than a whisper.</p><p>“She came back.”</p><p>Eventually, Matthew had to leave and Father Lantom found himself alone in the church. The old man closed his eyes and prayed for all the kind, strong and deeply human people of his church to find peace.</p><p>He opened his eyes and jolted. The young woman in front of him smiled, mischievous.</p><p>“My appologies, Father. I didn’t mean to scare you.”</p><p>“It’s alright, my child. I didn’t hear you coming. You took me by surprise. Can I help you?”</p><p>“My name is Elektra Natchios.”</p><p>She offered him a hand.</p><p>“And I’d like to have a chat with you, Father.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading.<br/>Take care</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Pourin' out my heart to a stranger</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The rumours are true. I am the worst.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Elektra Natchios was everything he had imagined she would be. Of course, he wasn’t thinking of her physiognomy. He never had tried to figure out her features. But what he had thought about, was her ruthlessness and her playfulness. Steel and mischief danced together in these dark eyes. Her pleasant smile concealed honed edges.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At first, he was unable to say a world. She was so similar to Mattew but at the same time, she was so, so different.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“May I ask for some of your time, Father?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How to refuse?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They sat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At first, she kept quiet. She kept quiet a long time. He waited for her to be ready. He was nothing but patient.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am not a good person, Father.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why would you say such a thing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A smile, sharp, joyless, taunting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s not pretend that you don’t know everything about me, Father. I thought all of this was about honesty?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I only know what Mattew told me. And it hardly counts as knowing you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At Mattew’s name, something softened in her features.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No offence, but Matthew needs a therapist, not a priest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He could have both if he weren’t so stubborn. But this isn’t about Mattew, is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The softness disappeared. A thoughtful expression took its place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why did you come here, Miss Natchios?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Matthew values your opinion, Father. I am not a good person. Not by his standards. Not by yours. I lied. I tortured. I killed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her gaze, unwavering, found his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I try to be a better person. But we don’t change who we are. I don’t want to become someone else. But I hurt him. And I regret it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silence fell, as heavy as her words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you looking for forgiveness, Elektra?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elektra shook her head. Shadows danced on her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not the kind you give, Father. I wasn’t a religious person before I died. Coming back didn’t make me a believer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could see it as a second chance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smirked but this time, there was no condescension in it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t receive a new soul, Father. It’s alright. My stained soul is good enough for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stood up and offered him her hand. He shook it but kept it in both of his instead of releasing it. For the first time since she had entered the church, Elektra seemed surprised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You will forgive each other. Because you care about him and he cares about you. That’s why the both of you are hurting so much. It’s the price of caring. It is such a beautiful thing, but it can’t subsist on its own. You have to look after it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m trying. Goodbye, Father.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elektra disappeared in the penumbra. Maybe it was where she belonged. Maybe Elektra Natchios would never walk into the light but neither would she lose her way in darkness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe she’d always be somewhere in between.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dawn and twilight were beautiful and full of potential.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Father Lantom sat. Eyes closed, savouring the peace around him, he prayed for a child of the dawn to find her own peace.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading. Take care, kids.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Like you don't even exist</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello guys. The rumours are true, I am inconsistent.<br/>Tw child abuse for this one because, you know, Stick.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Elektra had been trained to be a deadly shadow; quiet, invisible, a ghost that eliminated its enemies without a noise, without a waste of time. The perfect killer. Precise and effective as death itself. Come and gone without a trace. Elektra had been trained to enter without an invitation and to leave without a warning. Unseizable. Like smoke. Like a shadow. Like death.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And she was good. She was good at finding her way. Doors were never closed for her. And even so, she’d pick the lock. And she was good at leaving. Unseizable, like a shadow. Nothing ever stopped her. No one could make her stay if she wasn’t willing to. Leaving was easy. Leaving when you would have given anything to be allowed to stay was much, much harder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was an exhausting fight against her pleading mind and her uncooperative legs. But Elektra knew how to go past her own reluctance. She already knew how to as a child when she’d fell on the floor, pain blazing in her whole body like a fire. Exhaustion would be a crushing weight on her lungs and she’d wish to never move a muscle ever again. The hard ground was comfortable enough. And then, Stick’s cane would cut through the air, unforgiving.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get up, we aren’t done, kid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d had no choice then to ignore her screaming muscles and to get on her feet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yes, Elektra knew how to ignore pain. But it didn’t make leaving Matt easier. It didn’t soothe her heart torn by her decision to leave one of the few good things in her life. But that was it, wasn’t it? Matt was good. Matt was so, so good. He’d be ok. Soon, she’d be a faded memory getting dusty in some corner of this brilliant, self righteous, fierce mind. A corner never visited. Matt would be too occupied fistfighting someone or overthrowing the government.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t need her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d be fine. As fine as people like them could be. In other words : he’d pretend. He’d pretend that all these broken pieces inside of him with their sharp edges and stolen parts could be fixed up, that there wasn’t a part of him begging for action, risks and the taste of blood on his tongue. Or maybe, maybe he wasn’t pretending. Maybe he managed to muffle that restless voice. Maybe he was actually fine. Maybe Elektra was the only one who was broken.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe Elektra didn’t want to be fixed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What if all she wanted was to be what they made her? What if she picked locks to enter their houses, silent and furtive as air just like she has been taught? She’d be who she was supposed to. She’d be the perfect death. She owed it to a little girl laying on the ground, wondering how she was supposed to keep going when her body was battered and bruised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She owed it to a blind teenager who couldn’t understand how refusing to take a man’s life made a disappointment of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She owed it to all these nameless children sacrificed in a war that wasn’t theirs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elektra ran but not from her pain. She has ignored it for too long. She kept it close to her chest; a burning reminder of who she was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unseizable,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Inescapable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The perfect death.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Me noticing that the next song is invisible string : How does one write fluff?<br/>Thank you for reading. Take care.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading.<br/>I’ll go in the album’s order so the next ficlet or whatever their name will be based on cardigans.<br/>Stay safe.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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